


SnowStorm

by Battlecruiser



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drama, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 02:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19033156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Battlecruiser/pseuds/Battlecruiser
Summary: Willow Schnee has lived too long as a broken woman. Jacques went too far this time, so she's going to fight back.





	1. Courage

Weiss hadn't even told her she was leaving.

Let alone say goodbye.

She hadn't even noticed. Buried in the bottom of one bottle or another. Winter had told her.

_What have I done to deserve someone who still cared?_

None of it was a surprise. It had been this way for a long time.

Too long.

Willow looked at herself in the mirror. It was not something she liked to do, especially when the world was no longer mercifully blurred.

Her clothes were as pristine as one would expect of a Schnee, as her hair would be once she was done. After some deliberation, she had decided on a long braid like the one she once wore. But under it all, it was easy to find the broken woman. The blue staring back at her betrayed a shattered world.

The outfit was one she hadn't worn in a very long time, it was elegant as expected of her family, but more practical than her usual. It wouldn't look completely out of place on one of her daughters. Boots, fitted trousers, and a long tactical jacket. The white was accented by purple more than red and blue, in contrast to the rest of her family.

Not that she would have to do anything physical, but it gave her confidence. Some at least. Something that had left her years ago and had to be clawed back. Hopefully it would be enough.

On the table in front of her was the final piece:

Eisdunst; her backsword.

It had been years since she had seen it, let alone held or worn it.

It was from a different time, when she was a different woman.

When she had attended Atlas Academy. Before he convinced her stop, never to graduate.

When she left all of her friends, except James, who Jacque had also taken a liking to.

He had claimed that it was because it was dangerous and he couldn't bear the thought of her getting hurt. Willow now knew that that was a lie like so many others. It was just about controlling her.

Willow had loved that man. The suave young gentleman who swept her off her feet. He was always kind, offering any help that he saw she may need. He always offered to pay despite how much wealthier her family was than his.

Little things, like remembering which foods she liked best so quickly showed how much he cared she had thought. He could make her laugh, and unlike so many she had met, his joke were never cruel to anyone.

He treated her like person, more than any of the other suitors that had come not for her, but for her name.

Oh, how she was in love.

In love with the man he pretended to be.

It had been the best day of her life when he proposed, but not long after eclipsed by the birth of their baby girl.

It hadn't been long since her father had passed, so he offered to take up her position at the company, so she could spend more time with the baby. She only saw it as his sacrifice for her.

But that was when the cracks started to show.

Lies.

Decisions made behind her back.

A temper that she hadn't seen in the years she had spent with him.

The company had been no saint under her father, but now. . .

He always had an excuse, and she believed them at first.

Through two more children and almost two decades.

She still loved him.

But the fights got worse. He put everything into the company, and nothing to his family.

He gave nothing  _real_  to her anymore.

But underneath it all, she thought that there still was that man she loved.

Until that day. The worst day of her life.

How could he have said that? They were fighting, more common now than it ever had been but still. . .

And on Weiss's birthday.

_"I never loved you"_

But when he had said it, she knew it was true. Willow had seen this man lie for nearly half her life, and although he was very good at it, this man knew how to make the truth hurt even more.

It was that night she had started drinking.

She couldn't sleep without it. It was easier to blackout than to cry one's self to sleep. At least then Willow wouldn't be crying in her dreams as well.

It wasn't until a few months later she finally worked up the courage, and made herself see the world for the lie she had been tricked into living for too long.

She had found him in his office, as usual. And Willow finally told that man what she had wanted to for months. They were going to get a divorce and she was going to take her company, her children, and her name with her.

The smile, that had brought joy and made her heart flutter, now flushed ice through her veins. He was calm, he must have know this was coming. When that smile parted he made his threat, and she could tell it was not an idle one.

He would take the children from her

Drinking had gotten the better of Willow on a few occasions at public events. It had been very embarrassing, but she hadn't seen it as more than that. Now he was threatening to use it and everything else as evidence against her, maybe even have her committed.

Unless she stayed in line. Stayed out of trouble and pretended to be the perfect Schnee she had always been.

And so she did.

Drinking the pain away. A mother who was physically there, but only that.

She had had Klein put the sword away in a moment of clarity after an accident with a dinner knife showed she couldn't be trusted with it. And what if she left it somewhere and the children found it?

One of the few good things she did in the haze that had consumed her waking life.

Time, too much of it, passed in that fog.

Winter renounced her inheritance after following in her footsteps to Atlas, but finishing and joining the military.

Weiss wanted to get even farther away, so went to Beacon when her time came.

Willow was so proud of her daughters. They had stood up to the man that she couldn't and were thriving. One was one of the most promising young officers in the military. James was a good friend, but he would never have favoured her so except for her own merit.

All her life Winter had tried so hard to be the perfect heiress and daughter. But she could never do it; it wasn't who she was. Every failing had eaten away at her, it got so much worse when her mother wasn't there to support her.

One night, Winter had broken down after her anxiety had gotten the best of her yet again, and her father had made sure to reminder her that she was a disgrace for letting it happen. That night Willow had talked to her daughter, trying hard to be sober doing so, and helped her decide that her path was not to be the one set before her. But it could be one of her own making. That was the last time Willow did something she was proud of.

And then there was her little girl, whom she had watched from the prison of her own making, was finally happy, at least mostly. Weiss wasn't lonely; that sad song she had heard at night, the one that only made her drink more, was no longer true.

When Weiss first came home she tried to talk about it with her mother, and Willow could remember most of it. She seemed to deeply care about her team, and from what Weiss had said they cared for her too. Another team had been almost as close, not to mention a few other friends and acquaintances who she held in varying regard.

Even if the Fall caused more pain for it, losing some of those she honestly called friends and being ripped away from the rest.

That was really the only time they had  _really_ spoken, despite the months she was home.

Now they were both gone again.

Winter had told her some before being redeployed somewhere, trying to keep her mother not completely in the dark. Willow knew that her eldest could remember best when she wasn't this way, and probably still loved for who she was.

The younger two. . . May not. And she couldn't blame them.

She had overheard what and how her own son talked to Weiss. Just like his father. And with what Winter had told her it made sense. Now Whitley was heir.

What Klien had told her was the worst of all. He had been almost as angry as her, but he was powerless to do anything about it.

The man behind the mask had hit her before. When she had embarrassed him mostly. He made sure not to leave bruises where others might see them.

But that  **fucker**  had laid a hand on her daughter, her little girl.

And now, he couldn't threaten to take away her three children. Because two had already left because of him. And now she had to save Whitley from that monster.

Willow picked up the blade, her hand was shaking and not just because it felt heavier than she remembered: it has been a day since her last drink. Everything hurt and she felt sick, but now she needed her head clear, even if it did ache terribly.

Klein had kept her weapon in great condition, it wasn't sharp but still gleamed like she remembered. She checked the barrel on the back of the blade to make sure it wasn't loaded. She didn't want any accidents.

In the polished blade she could almost see the woman that she use to be.

Willow sheathed Eisdunst and affixed it to her belt.

The walk to his office was not a long one, but one she had not made for a long time.

She had been assured no one else would be around and no one else would be in the office. Klein really was one of the few friends she had left, and a better parent than she or her husband had ever been.

One final obstacle remained, the door.

Fears plague her, telling her to go back. The memory of the threats and every time she had failed were near consuming.

But she had come so far now, and the price of another failure was not one she could continue paying.

Willow slammed the door open, initially barely eliciting a response from the figure seated behind the desk.

When he looked up, there was first confusion. And not a small amount of displeasure.

And then he saw what she was wearing.

But most of all her eyes.

The fire that he had smothered long ago was ablaze again.

"Hello  _Jacques_ , we need to talk."


	2. Facing Your Demons

It took merely a moment for Jacques to recompose himself.

Even by Atlassian standards the room they were in was cold. It was lined with bookcases, filled with books that he hoped people would think he had read. Willow knew that he had read some of them, only those relevant to Schnee Dust, and learned just enough about the others be convincing.

A portrait, a monument to vanity, hung behind him. It was a thing of contradictions for Willow; it was the face that she had fallen in love with, the one she would probably always have some affection for. She could still imagine and remember running her fingers through that black hair.

But now she knew it had all just been a facade. Just a lie.

_This is it, keep calm. Keep calm._

"To what do I owe the pleasure, my dear wife," Venom laced his words as it always did, "You never visit my office. It has been some time since you graced it with your presence. "

Willow looked into the eyes she thought she used to know. Where once she was convinced there was a fire; love and warmth, there was only the bitter, calculating cold. Maybe that's all that had ever been there.

A blizzard, that if catches you unaware, will freeze you dead before the morning ever comes.

"Come now, my  _dear_  husband," Willow might play his game for a little while, if only to show him that she still could, "I will let you hazard a guess -"

Two piercing azure stares held especially strong for a second.

"- I am sure you already know the answer."

_Don't play dumb with me you bastard_

Jacques sat back a bit in his chair, eyes scanning woman in front of him, looking for any potential weaknesses. Any chink in the armour he knew had to have been so hastily constructed. He had felled multinational corporations at that desk, how hard would it be to do so to one lonely, depressed alcoholic?

Especially one he had broken before.

"Perhaps you are here to discuss some of the latest acquisitions of Schnee Dust? It has been an excellent quarter. Revenue, profit, and market share are all up." He looked proud of himself, but that was his usual state. Proud of himself, in actions roughly equivalent in business to kicking a puppy and then enslaving it.

"I have been constantly assured of the well being of the company. And your expenditures have certainly not reduced. The Valetian white you had stocked in the cellar was lovely and almost worth its price." They both knew  _exactly_  what true purpose of those bottles were; to keep Willow at the bottom of one or the next. "I am confident my assistance is unnecessary as far as Schnee Dust's current business is concerned. As such I do not believe that needs to be discussed. I am not here for that."

_Or at least my help is vehemently unwanted._ Willow clarified to herself.

"No, I can't imagine you are. You never were very good with the business, so I can't imagine you wish to speak to me about that," They both knew that wasn't true, but Jacques knew anything that might wear away this new found confidence would be prudent to say.

_Don't let him get to you. Breathe._

"Perchance you are finally taking an interest in  _our children_  once again? Finally interested in being a mother? I suppose late is preferable to never, I believe our daughters may welcome it, though I do  _fear_  that our son may not feel the same way. Though you will be happy to know he is becoming quite the young man." His words pried at the wounds he knew he would find, a small smile may have been hidden by that mustache.

"In fact I am, to an extent. Though much of that will have to wait as Weiss and Winter are of course away at the moment. I trust I have you to thank for that. "

"I'm rather surprised that you even know that at all. Shirking your responsibilities as a mother has been your only hobby other than drink for some time now." Sometimes the truth hurt the most, and when the truth left those vile lips, it stung. But the hypocrisy, that made Willow's blood boil. What Klein had said echoed loudly in her mind.

"At least I never laid a finger on them!" She spat back, voice raising for the first time.

"Nor ever lifted one to help them." Came the infuriatingly calm response.

Willow gritted her teeth, struggling to keep her composure. "No matter. That is still not exactly why I am here."

The man sighed, his little game was coming to an end. And he was just starting to have fun.

"No, I expect you must be here about something silly like a  _divorce,"_ His lips curled into a wicked grin, "It's funny really; last time you came more prepared, with a written agreement, in hand, and everything," That grin only grew, "And look at how well that went for you."

Jacques believed he had already won. It was a fight he had won once already after all, before it had even began. He continued;

"Even after all these years, I expected better from you Willow."

But this time would be different. It would have to be.

"Your father would be so disappointed in you."

_You have no right to even use the word_

It was meant to get her angry. To get Willow to lash out or in some way slip up. Maybe even scare her away. But he had made a miscalculation.

"I would have to agree."

The surprise failed to show on Jacques' face, it was a skill that took years of practice.

"My father would be disappointed that I was deceived by a man like you. That for so long I was controlled by a man like you. That for years you abused me and  **my**  children. And that I did nothing to stop it. Because I wasn't strong enough."

Jacques sat quietly, watching, planning his next move while letting Willow continue her tirade.

"Though I know that he too would be disappointed in himself, because he was fooled by you as well. But we both know that my father was a careful man. Planning for even what he thought was improbable. Clauses in every single agreement he ever made or wrote."

For the first time, in what may have been years, Willow smiled just a little without being plastered.

"Like our marriage contract." Jacques' eyes widened a bit. Unless one knew the man and were watching for it, one would never have noticed it. The one slight sign of fear he couldn't suppress, despite how he had tried And that fear was turning to anger. "You have read it at least as many times as I have, knowing your tendencies, probably many more. So I am quite sure you will remember the sections that detailed what actions would void the contract and your place at the company. Or maybe you have forgotten the part about assaulting your wife and children?"

Jacques was now seething, livid that someone might just have a chance at undoing all he had worked to achieve. But he knew this was nowhere near the end of this fight. "You have very little evidence and maybe just a few witnesses. I can have more in the hour. In the end it will come down to your word against mine, and who will believe the town drunk?" There was still an arrogance in his voice, a confidence that this would ultimately workout for him like everything else. He narrowed his icy stare at the woman in front of him, "This will not end well for you."

"The reason I came here was to make you an offer, a deal. Split the company and have you relinquish the children so we could both just walk away. But I know you. I knew you would have never done that. Though I thought I would try, a hope against hope, but now I realize I don't want that either." She said, trying to sound sure of herself. Sure that she would succeed in this battle. "I want to fight, and I want you to lose it all."

"You could never win. And you will never win. Because I always do." Jacques voice was rising and he seemed to be partially trying to convince himself.

"I have to at least try." Willow hoped her words didn't falter with the fear felt. But no matter how afraid she was, Willow would see this through. It was her only chance. "Maybe this time you'll finally lose  _Gelé_."

The president of Schnee Dust was called many names. Evil, a scoundrel, cruel, a wasteful racist piece of breathing human garbage. He was used to it, even taking sinful pride in what his enemies thought of him. But there was one name that he could not tolerate, the name that he had worked so hard to rid himself of and replace with a better one: Gelé, his own. It was weak. A weak name of a weak family. For Jacques, Schnee was his name. More than anyone else, even if they were born with it. It belonged to him. And no one would deny him that.

Such insolence would require punishment. And he knew the perfect kind, which may even dissuade this  _bitch_  from her plans.

Jacques rose from his seat, fury in his eyes. He then raised a hand, open so it would leave less of a mark.

Willow knew what it meant. Too many times she had felt it, too many times he had hurt her. Too many times, but that ended today.

_**Never again.** _

She had to think fast.

Hurting him might only mean she'd never win.

No matter how much she wanted to.

But Willow was not going to be hit.

Not by him.

Not ever again.

She would thank the lack of alcohol later for being able to come up with an idea.

In a flash Willow unsheathed her sword and plunged it hard into the desk that still divide them. Mahogany splintered as the tip made it to the other side. Jacques was startled by the sudden and violent action, dropping his calm demeanor, taken quite aback by all this. Someone had now physically threaten him.

" **You. Will. Never. Touch. Me. Again**." Willow made every syllable abundantly clear, looking him dead in the eyes, to make sure the man understood. "Do you understand?"

The facade now having fallen, Jacques was visibly angry. "At least Weiss took the discipline she deserved." He growled at the swordswoman still holding her weapon.

This monster could say anything about her. Willow knew she had earned a lot of it. But her baby girl did  _nothing_  to deserve any of what Jacques had done.

That was the final straw.

Willow ungrasped her sword.

Then sent the back of her hand across Jacques face, with enough force for him to be unwillingly seated again.

A single drop of blood fell from his nose.

No doubt staining that once perfect white suit.

Willow yanked Eisdunst from the wooden deck and placed it back in its scabbard. She knew that what she had just done was almost certainly a mistake. There was even the possibility it would ruin everything, destroyer her chances of escaping this living nightmare.

But damn if it didn't feel good.

"If you  _ever_  lay a hand on one of my children again, it may not be furniture that gets impaled."

Willow turned around and strode out of the office, slowly with head held high. She needed to show she wasn't afraid, even if she was.

"You will pay for this!" Jacques yelled after her, holding his coincidentally red handkerchief up to his nose to stop anymore blood from coming out. "No one disrespects Jacques Schnee like this! You will pay!"

In the doorway she turned just enough to show the cold blue eyes that the fire was still lit in hers.

"We shall see.  _Gelé_  "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked this second chapter! :)
> 
> Criticism welcomed!
> 
> I will probably continue this in the future, but not this soon.


	3. An Ally

Willow stared at her coffee. The white steam raising towards the ceiling. She never liked coffee that much, and that displeasure had only grown greater over time. It had always given her jitters. Now as she watched that steam rise from the mug in her hands and its taste sat bitterly on her tongue she appreciated the hot beverage.

In someway, that dislike could be chalked up her disdain of coffee to being near the opposite of alcohol.

But now she could not have the latter, refusing to give back into the temptation. And Willow was certainly more than tired enough to be thankful for some caffeine. The stress; of all of this and stopping drinking at the same time, was getting to her.

She was not at home anymore.

There was no way she would feel safe that close to Jacques. In hindsight, Willow hadn't for a long time and never would again. Even if the chances of him trying anything were slim.

Or at least she hoped they were. . .

Still she had had to leave. Because of that chance and so that she could better fight that man. This would be the longest she was away from home for some time. And she hadn't had much time to prepare.

So Willow turned to one of the few people she could trust. One of the few people in the world that would never be intimidated by Jacques Schnee. Maybe the only person she could call friend now.

Despite her lack of public appearances, and getting out of the mansion in general, it had not been that long since she had last been in this place. There were events that she was expected, invited to attend, and when it came down to it, she didn't really have a choice in the matter.

Those Atlassean Military balls were generally not too bad though; there was always more than enough champagne to keep her happy and always someone else just as inebriated to make her not feel so alone. Though she was usually kept on a rather short leash.

And at every one, she had always stopped by James's office to say "hello". Even if that word was slurred.

Right now this was the best place she could be. Even if having to check her sword as the entrance, as civilians weren't allowed to have weapons on military bases, made her even more uneasy.

A piece of the identity she was desperately trying to hold on to no longer in her grasp.

So she sat in a standard issue office. It was rather nice, large as it was for a general, if still dull. At this point, as she sat at a mostly white chair in a mostly white office, in a mostly white military base, in mostly white Atlas she realized, even as a Schnee, she had grown quite tired of the color.

General Ironwood walked in the door, closing it behind him again. Willow preferred people not knowing she was there.

His hair was greyer than she had remembered it, and more so in a shorter period than she ever recalled. It must have been from the stress. Willow was thankful for naturally white hair, because if she hadn't always had it, she would have had it now anyway.

"James, I can't thank you enough." Willow offered her gratitude for not the first time today to her friend, part of her not believing she deserved any of it. "I don't know what I would have done."

"Of course," He walked around to his seat at the same desk that Willow sat at, "You're a friend, we've known each other for far too long for me not to help." There was a softness to his voice, one that Willow imagine very few had ever heard.

"Still. You're taking a risk helping me. Jacques-" She was cut off by the General.

"Jacques has never scared me. And he never will." He sighed, and looked directly to his guest, "I did warn you about him." There was no triumph in those vindicated words, only sympathy.

"I know, you were right." Thoughts, what-ifs, came flooding in as they usually did. It was unpleasant, and it never helped. Thinking back all those years, one thing did come to mind. One thing that didn't hurt. So she continued:

"But you weren't exactly the first person who I trusted with advice concerning relationships," Willow was trying to lighten up this horrible situation she found herself in, by poking fun at her old friend. "Because I believe that you are still single and that that revolver you love so much is still named Glynda."

Nothing could get General James Ironwood to blush. Probably not even a god. Nothing, except maybe the woman they now discussed. He would also not appeared flustered. So, he simply remained silent.

"I do believe that she is the same "Professor Goodwitch" that my daughter spoke of at Beacon. Ever observant, Weiss mentioned that Glynda was as married to her job as I know you are. But apparently only to the job."

Again, the man was silent for a moment. He eventually sighed;

"We both have made decisions we will have to live with. Though, hopefully we can make it so that you don't quite have to endure what you have had to for so long." Ironwood took out his scroll and checked it before placing it back in his jacket. "Your luggage will be arriving shortly. I'll have it brought to the apartment I have on base. As I said before, you won't be intruding; I never stay there anyway. And as we agreed it is where you'll be safest."

Willow didn't want to be any more of a burden than she already was, but she knew he was right. Not even Jacques would try something on a military base. And in her luggage. . .

_Luggage?_

"I didn't bring anything but what I grabbed on my way out," Usually or a Schnee, the few outfits and amenities she had carried would have been disgraceful, but this was far from usual. She was just glad that she had Klein, who didn't question when she had told him to drive her to an airship. He could still feign ignorance. "How do I have anything arriving?"

_If this is from Jacques it could be-_

"You butler, Klein, arranged for some of your personal items to be transported here" He smiled a bit, for the first time this meeting, "Winter gave me his number when she first joined; emergency contacts are a requirement, non-negotiable, and I think you will agree he was the best option at that point in time. The number is secure, I know because your daughter, despite how she wanted to appear, wasn't as independent as she would have liked when she first commissioned. Klein retrieved and brought her some personal and luxury items several times. I can't imagine Jacques would have approved."

Willow would have to agree. After Winter joined the military all he ever did for her was enough for a public facade. And this reminded her, confirmed to her, that:

_I have at least two friends left._

"Indeed. What a relief; I need to keep up my public image." She sighed, not even finding her own joke that humorous, "In all seriousness, that does make me feel a bit better."

Ironwood looked at the now empty cup of coffee in held by Willow. "That's good. You don't need anymore stress."

Willow looked to see mug was shaking with her hands, the caffeine was only partially to blame. "I would have to agree."

For a moment neither of them said anything, simply contemplating their current predicament.

"Remind me again exactly what resources you have available." Ironwood inquired.

Willow closed her eyes, making sure to recollect correctly things from a long time ago. "I have a few personal stocks, an old checking account from when I was a girl, and maybe a property somewhere I haven't been to in years. Everything else I held jointly with Jacques; so it's his now. It's not much, relatively"

For anyone else, it would have been a substantial fortune. But when you were fighting one of the most powerful men in Remnant, it probably wouldn't be enough. Willow knew the lawyers alone may cost more.

"Would anyone inside the company be of help?"

"Maybe one or two of the old board members, from my father's time, might be on my side but they're virtually powerless on their own." Willow answered dejectedly.

"Any other possible allies, old acquaintances from other prominent families perhaps?" Ironwood questioned.

"No, I don't think so," The answer hurt; it reminded her of how alone she was now and had been for so long. "There are a few people I used to know; there was a girl on my team at Atlas Academy and a former suitor who always meant well. But I've only talked to them a few times in the last decade."

_I couldn't ask them to do something like this. Not after so long._

"So is-" Willow started, as a Schnee she hated asking something of someone else, and personally she hated asking anything of a friend she had nearly abandoned. "-is there anything you can do? James, I can't thank you enough for what you've already done, I just want to know what we're working with."

"There isn't a pay grade in the Atlassean Military that would be able to contribute much, not even mine." She had known that already. "The military will only concern itself if active duty personnel are involved.-"

_And they have a vested interest in keeping happy relations with their dust supplier._

"-I can try to influence other members of the council, call in a few favours if it comes down to it, but not much more. I'm sorry I can't help more."

There again was the sympathy she didn't think she deserved.

"You've already done more than I ever could really asked of you. What I have will have to be enough. Perhaps I can turn public opinion against him enough for it to do some good, though I think I will need my daughters for that." No one would care as much for her than two of Atlas's This would be a long and difficult road ahead, what she had last said weighed heavily on Willow. "Do you know how Winter's doing and when she'll be back? I didn't talk to her much last I saw her."

Willow was anxious about that; partially afraid to face her daughter and thus all she had become and become these last many years. And partly desperately wanting to try to make it up to her no longer little girl and finally be her mother again.

"Her deployment will last about another month. After that time she will return here. Last time I saw her she was stressed, more than usual. After what you told me I think it was due to Weiss's departure, who there's still no word on."

_That means Weiss is probably fine, she can take care of herself now. She's grown up so much. I guess I'll at least have time to prepare for both those meetings._

Willow looked her old friend in the eyes "You've been the parent Winter didn't have, when she really needed one." Words that still stung, despite how true they were and how she had come to accept them, "It's clear every time she talks to me how much looks up to you. No matter how this all turns out, I'll never be able to repay you for that."

"She is a fine young woman, one of the best officers in the entire military and I am quite pleased to have her under my command. You don't need to repay me for anything." Even under these circumstances, Willow knew Ironwood was not the type to exaggerate. His words gave her some comfort.

Willow let out an exasperated, exhausted sigh, "I have a lot of work ahead of me, but I think I'll make use of your apartment." She said, getting up from her seat.

"Before you leave, you're probably going to want this." Ironwood pulled something out from behind his side of the desk. It was a sword, her sword. "Honored guests are trusted to carry whatever they like on base. General's orders." Willow it when he had walked in.

He handed Eisdunst to her, which she promptly fastened to her belt.

"I need to figure out more ways to thank you James." Willow remarked.

"You can thank me after you get you life back from Jacques. Now, go get some rest. We both know you'll need it."

As she walked out of the office, sword on her hip, headed towards where Ironwood had said the apartment was.

It was going to be a tough fight, nearly everything was stacked against Willow.

_But I'm going to win anyway._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all liked this installment :)   
> And didn't mind Ironwitch being shoehorned in a bit.  
> I'm planning on at least 2 more chapters, probably 3.   
> Where Willow gets a big more back up ;)


	4. The Letter

“. . .No, no, it's fine”

 

“. . . Thank you, it’s more than I could ask”

 

“. . . . You may have known him better than me, I hope my father would be. . .” 

 

“. . .You take care as well. Thank you again.”

 

Willow sighed as she put her scroll down on the desk she sat at, then rested her head on her hands. 

 

It was tough going, making so little progress everyday. When she still yet had so far to go.

 

The man she had just talked to, was named Walther Regen. He had been a friend of her father and was now one of the few people left at the company from that time. Jacques had replaced almost every person with someone he thought more loyal, better able to control. It was better that way for any less than moral, or legal, decisions he wanted to make.

 

But Regen had too many contacts in partner companies, and was too well liked by his subordinates. So he was one of the few not fired, forced to resign, or more forcibly “retired”.

 

Willow had known the man well from when she was a little girl, he was always kind to her.

 

She was more than relieved when she reached out to him that he was willing to help. It seemed that even after all these years he hadn’t changed much; still remembering what the company used to be. And the person she used to be.

 

He had promised to help in what ways he could; provide as many resources that he could without raising suspicions and to try to convince the few other board members not devoted to Jacques to be on her side when the time came.

 

Regen said that he thought Nicolas would be proud of his daughter, for standing up and fighting.

 

Willow hoped he was right.

 

While making headway had been slow going, she wasn’t completely failing to find support. An endless stream of copious letters, emails, and phone calls had yielded some results.

 

A lender who had known Nicolas agreed to give a loan no one reasonably would, but they said if Willow was anything like him they could count on it being paid back in full. 

 

The passing years had made an old friend from Atlas Academy the owner of her family’s business, that unbeknownst to Willow until now. Willow had thought it unlikely that Viktoria would help, not having even spoken to her in such a long time. Though, as it turned out, not to have been as long as she thought; the white haired woman just having been too drunk to remember it. Maybe it was out of pity, maybe it was the good heart that Willow remembered, but Viktoria agreed to help with what influence she had. It might mean another council member on her side.

 

Knowing that her former partner still cared mattered as much to Willow as any other help she could provide. 

 

Though even all this wouldn’t be enough, and it took more work to get than she had done in the last two decades. But Willow was making progress.

 

In some places at least; despite her efforts of dozens of calls and emails, no one seemed to know where Weiss was. That worried her a little, but did not surprise her. Willow had to take some time to convince herself that her little girl was a woman now, one that was able to take care of herself. Or so she hoped.

 

Still Ironwood’s aid was the most important, without James Willow knew she wouldn’t have been able to do any of this.

 

She got up from the chair in the office which she was sitting, making her way the short distance to the kitchen of this apartment. It was no Schnee manor, but functional, and to Willow there was an appeal to the compactness and streamlining. 

 

With the things that Klein had sent over, to Willow’s surprise, over the last couple of weeks the flat actually sort of felt like home. 

 

Maybe because it had been a very long time since her real home had felt that way.

 

A coffee machine was sat upon the, of course white like nearly everything else, counter. Willow made a mug of black coffee.

 

This might be becoming a new addiction, Willow conceded to herself. She needed a few cups to make it through the day, and when recently there was a day she hadn’t, it had been very unpleasant. Though the amount of stress, and the correlative lack of sleep, probably had a substantial amount to do with it.

 

It was at least better than her last addiction, she thought. When dependant on caffeine people were still functional; as businesswomen, as people, . . . as mothers. 

As she took the first sip of her steaming beverage, a knock came at the door. Three taps with military precision. 

 

Willow made her way to the apartment’s door. Looking through the peephole it was a soldier; a young man.

 

How surprising, considering she was on a military base and all.

 

She unlocked the multiple locks and opened the door.

 

“Good evening Ma’am. I have a letter for you.” The soldier said, extending his arm which held out a crisp, stark white envelope. 

 

Marred only by the Schnee seal emblazoned in a pale blue.

 

She knew this couldn’t be good.

 

“Thank you,” Willow responded as she accepted the letter. The man saluted and marched off.

 

The door was shut, then quickly and carefully relocked.

 

Willow stared down at that letter as she walked back to the office. Fear and worry welling up in her.

 

She sat down at the desk, and continued to look at that envelope for a long time. Not even Willow knew exactly how long as possibilities rattled through her brain.

 

_ Let's get this over with.  _ She eventually thought.

 

The seal was torn away with wanton disregard, the importance it signified to so many no longer holding to her. Willow unfolded the paper, and began to read what was written.

 

It was not long, but even still her hands began to shake as she was not half way through.

 

Tears started to cascaded down her cheeks as she continued to read, smudging the ink as they below.

 

It was much worse than she had dreaded. 

 

It was from her son.

 

Her little Whitley. 

 

* * *

 

_ Dear Mother, _

 

_ When father told me that you had left I was very disappointed. The fact that you have chosen to neglect your responsibilities as a Schnee even more than you had previously is quite a depressing notion. Father and I did hope that Weiss and Winter would be the last two Schnees to disgrace themselves and turn their backs on our family.  _

 

_ This outcome, while wholey regretful, has not come as a surprise to me. The state that you found yourself in most days is evidence enough for this turn of events to have been predictable.  _

 

_ My sisters have told me of how years ago, when I was too young to recall, when you acted properly as both a mother and as a member of the Schnee family. Winter has repeatedly assured me that you were the epitome of an elegant business woman and of a caring mother. These stories used to give me hope. _

_ I no longer believe her.   _

 

_ I can not recall the last time that you took any noticeable interest in any of your duties. You have only gone to events that you were absolutely required, only conducting your obligations when you had no choice. And still, only then when there was there a way to feed your addiction. _

 

_ I only wish that you had shown me the attention you bestowed upon those bottles.  _

 

_ If you still in any way care, that despite how you have disregarded the company and Schnee name father and I will not. Your absence may even be the best thing you have done for either in years. _

 

_ I do not care if you ever come back.  _

 

_ Your son, _

 

_ Whitley Schnee   _

 

* * *

 

The white haired woman put her head down on the desk and sobbed.

 

Jacques had had the letter written and sent, that was certain, but Willow was sure those were truly Whitley’s words.

 

Willow knew in her heart what the truth was as it stood. That she hadn’t done anything for her son to deserve anything but the contempt that she was being given. That she had neglected her baby boy most of all.

 

But that only made it hurt more.

 

Willow could feel herself falling back in to the place she had been for so long, the one she had just escaped. Dark claws digging into her soul once again.

 

She threw Eisdunst across the apartment without even looking up, clattering off the wall before landing some place she didn’t care.

 

Every regret was drawn up from the depth it lay, so many past failures creeping in.

 

_ Dad deserved a child who would destroy everything. _

 

_ I don’t deserve to be called a mother. _

 

_ How could I do this to my own children? _

 

_ I’ve failed the company. I’ve failed my family. _

 

Every single fear she prominently reared their ugly heads, blending in to a horrible future.

 

_ How am I ever going to win? _

 

_ No one beats Jacques, and he’s beaten me so many times. _

 

_ I’m just going to hurt more people. _

 

_ People who are only helping me out of pity. _

 

_ It would be better if I just wasn’t here. . . _

 

In the maelstrom of misery in her mind that continued to send her spiraling down, only one thought stood out above the rest.

 

“I need a drink”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all like it :)
> 
> I'm planning on at least 3 more chapters now.


	5. Fallen Down

Sleep was cruelly torn from her, the sea receding from a woman trying to drown.

 

The maybe-still-morning sunlight stung as Willow heaved her eyelids open, finally surrendering herself to consciousness. 

 

Her head throbbed a relentlessly, a terrible unyielding rhythm behind her eyes. Each and every excruciating beat her body’s punishment for what she had done hours before. 

 

Willow could feel weakness and aches throughout her entire body. This was a familiar feeling. An all too familiar feeling.

 

It was going to be hard getting up, from wherever Willow was now laying.

 

Though she didn’t know where that was.

 

She didn’t know how she ended up like this.

 

She didn’t know why she had ended up like this.

 

There was a dense fog engulfing her mind and it was hard to focus enough to even think properly. 

 

Willow’s eyes adjusted to the all too bright light that mercilessly cascaded through the windows.

 

_ Damn that hurts _

 

Now she could see that she was on the floor in the living room. Next to the couch but evidently not on it.

 

Lifting her head a little and looking around, Willow could see the apartment better. Trashed wasn’t exactly the right word to describe it, it was just a mess, but she must have taken while making it so. A couple of chairs were knocked over, a bottle or two on the ground, and glinting from what had to be shattered glass.

 

The worst part was the stain on the carpet that looked, and smelled, like she had thrown up at some point. 

 

Realizing this, Willow looked down at herself. While thoroughly disheveled; appearing like she had made an attempt to undress but quickly gave up, Willow was clean except for what must have been some wine stains on her partially unbuttoned blouse.

 

Years of practice at not ruining designer evening gowns was probably to thank. Willow had learned that fairly early in her addiction. Jacques had not been kind the few times she had soiled a dress in public.

Even compared to usual. 

 

_ I’m going to need clean this up before James comes back  _ Willow thought, not wanting her friend to see the insult she had inflicted upon his generosity. 

 

But first a question plagued her, gnawed at her mind together with the pulsing headache.

 

_ What happened?  _

 

Willow slowly muddled through her own groggy and impaired mind, trying to recall. Gradually she pieced together some of what was hopefully yesterday. 

 

The last thing she remembered was a knock at the door.

 

. . . Then she went to the door and was given a letter.

 

She must have read the letter. . .

 

The letter. . .

 

The letter. .

 

The letter Willow remembered tears soaking through, ink running. 

 

The letter that shook with her hands, trembling with every sob.

 

It was from her son.

 

It was from Whitley. 

 

_ That damned letter. . . _

 

Willow couldn’t recollect a single second of what happened after she had read it and now. 

 

But she knew by heart every word on that page. Each individual mark a brand burned on to her soul. 

 

Her eyes began to water again as Willow remembered what she had wanted to forget. What she had tried to wipe from her memory.

 

She began to spiral back down as Willow was reminded of who she had become, and maybe who she still was. 

 

_ I really need another- _

 

Then a knock at the door.

 

That had to be Ironwood. She didn’t want him to see her this way, not after she had come so far. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her like this before. This was going to be embarrassing, degrading, but no worse than she had suffered before.

 

_ At least it’s only James who will see me like this. _

 

The knock came again, but accompanied by a voice.

 

Not Ironwood’s, but a young woman’s.

 

A very familiar young woman.

 

“Mother?”

 

Willow could always recognize her eldest daughter's voice.

 

It sent a wave of fear throughout her, she gasped at the realization.

 

_ I can’t let Winter see me like this. Not again. _

 

Willow didn’t want her daughter to ever look upon the failure she had become ever again. Never again see the mother who had failed her.

 

Failed her so many times.

 

And now the mother who had tried so hard to right the wrongs had only to have failed yet again. 

 

How could she face her daughter like this?

 

Getting an arm underneath herself, Willow scrambled to her feet from where she was on the ground, using the couch to pull herself the rest of the way. Muscles ached.

 

As she stood up a wave of nausea hit her and the room began to spin. The throbbing in her head only got worse.

 

Willow tried to steady herself, taking a few steps towards a chair she could use to do that. But only succeeded in taking it down with her as she fell hard to the floor below with a crash and a thud.

 

She let out an involuntary groan due to the now compounding pain.

 

_ Fuck _

 

More words came from the other side of the apartment door. Willow couldn’t understand what they were, but the tone was worried, almost frantic.

 

Next Willow heard something slam into that door, accompanied with cracking. Then again another strike, splintering the wood and slamming open the door against a wall. 

 

“Mom!”

 

Seeing her mother on the ground, Winter instantly rushed through the entrance and to her mother’s side. “Mom, are you alright?”

 

Willow felt a hand on her shoulder, and she let it help her in to more of a sitting position. 

 

“ . . I-I’m f-fine.” Voice hoarse, throat dry the lie was not very believable even if proof to the contrary wasn’t right in front of Winter. 

 

The older woman was brought face to face with her daughter. Willow peered into Winter’s blue eyes,

much like her own but yet so much brighter than the ones she saw in the mirror. She had always loved to see her baby girl’s sapphires when they had looked up to her.

 

In her daughter’s eyes, Willow now could see so much worry in them. Anxiety she hated to have caused, and care she didn’t think she deserved any more. 

 

For a moment Winter glanced around the apartment. 

 

She could tell what happened.

 

Then the worry mixed with disappointment. 

 

It wasn’t the first time Willow had seen that in those pools of blue. But she had hoped she had seen the last.

 

“Mom, what happened?” Winter’s honest concern laced with dismay cut deep, “General Ironwood said that you. . .”

 

Willow turned away as her tears began to fall, bringing up her knees closer to her chest. Tears of shame. Shame at having failed once again.

 

_ I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. _

 

Few want to watch their parents cry. Winter was no different, even despite how many times she had witnessed it before. Maybe even because of it. Winter was not as blind to what her father did to her mother as the man thought. Those painful memories began to resurface.  

 

So she too looked away, away from her sobbing mother.

 

Winter scanned the apartment, seeing the damage Willow had done. Unfortunately, none of it surprised her.

 

But something strange on the wall caught her attention. She got up, leaving her mother where she sat, to inspect it.

 

It was her mother’s sword, something she remembered from her childhood, impaled into the wall. 

 

The sword was pinning a piece of paper to that wall.

 

As she neared, Winter could see the writing on that page. 

 

And standing next to the hilt she read every smudged, blue word.

 

Winter then came to an understanding of exactly what happened.

 

She understood it all.

 

She rushed back to her mother’s side.

 

“Mom, I’m so sorry,” Winter said kneeling back down, “Father had no right to send that. I’m sure my brother-”

 

“Whitley meant every word he wrote.” Willow rasped, cutting Winter off, “And I deserved them all.”

 

Willow could see the sympathy in her daughter’s eyes, but as the words fell out she became more dejected. 

 

Because despite what she had said, Winter knew the agonizing truth too. Maybe even better, she actually knew her brother after all.

But right now Willow was suffering more than just emotionally as she reaped what she had sown last night; everything hurt. Her throat felt like a dessert. 

 

“Winter, could you get me something to drink?” She didn’t want to risk another attempt at getting up so soon.

 

“Of course Mother.” The soldier responded somberly as she rose dutifully, going to the kitchen to do as she was told.

 

Sitting on the floor the older woman waited for her daughter to return.

 

When Winter stepped back into the room Willow saw what she was carrying.

 

A bottle of red wine, one she must not have finished off last night.

 

Willow realized why:

 

The many times before she had asked her daughter to get her something in the morning. Back then to try and keep the pain away for as long as possible. Keeping the world blurred at every hour so she couldn’t see what she had created. 

 

Winter had even remembered what type she had preferred in the morning.  

 

And now it would work the same as every other time.

 

It would take away the hurt.

 

_ I want it, _

 

It would take away the torment.  

 

_ I want it, _

 

It would mean she wouldn’t have to face the world.

 

_ I want it, _

 

It would mean she wouldn’t have to face herself.

 

_ I need it! _

 

But it would mean that she had lost. Turn all of her work into nothing.

 

It would shun everyone who had helped her. Let down the people who for some reason still believed in her.

 

It would prove Jacques right.

 

Willow could see the distress on Winter’s face. So much disappointment, yet still willing to help her mother. Even if that was continuing her addiction.

 

And even after so many years of being a horrible mother, so many years of not being there to help her.

 

Willow had made a promise to herself.

 

She would never be that person again.

 

No matter how hard it was.

 

No matter how much it hurt.

 

No matter hell she would have to pay.

 

Willow was going to keep it.

 

_ I can’t. _

 

“No! . .” Willow exclaimed, shaking her to make sure she was understood, “Please. . . just water.”

 

Willow could see the relief wash over Winter as she heard those words. “I’ll be back in a second Mom.” Winter said, an upbeat tone creeping in.

 

And Winter smiled as she turned back around.

 

A sincere, happy smile. Not one trying to hide how she felt underneath.

 

It was something Willow had only rarely seen for so many years. An uncommon sight since she had stopped being able to cause that smile, and stop her father from taking it away. For so long Willow knew she had been the reason that even when she saw Winter’s lips curl, her eyes reflected a different truth.

 

But now she had made her daughter smile again and it was a beautiful thing.

 

Willow could hold on to that.

 

She could remember it when things got bad, when it was hard to keep going.

 

Remember why she kept fighting.

 

The click of heels signaled Winter was returning. This time when Willow looked up she saw that her daughter was carrying a glass of water.

 

Winter reached her mother and sat down next to her mother, offering the cup.

 

“Thank you.” Willow said as she gratefully accepted the drink. She took the first sip, small so as to make sure not to upset her stomach anymore. 

 

It didn’t taste or feel as good as booze at that moment, but Willow knew that ultimately didn’t matter.

 

“We have a lot to talk about.” Willow stated as she turned to Winter.

 

“That we do Mom.” Came Winter’s reply. The soldier got to her feet and extended a hand to her mother, “We can talk at the table, want some help?”

 

And Willow accepted her daughter’s hand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I no longer know how long this is going to be, and due to travel next chapter might take longer
> 
> Hope y'all like it :)


	6. Having her Back

"Thank you Winter." Willow said as her daughter pulled out the chair for her.

"Of course Mom." The reply truthfully sincere.

It was far from the first time that Winter had performed this courtesy; Schnees were of course taught such manners from an early age. Winter had actually liked doing it; helping her beloved mother, even in such small ways.

But then that changed.

When sometimes, Willow couldn't even pull a chair out by herself.

Winter still helped her mother, she wouldn't have even considered anything else, but knowing that she had to and why was painful.

Now was different.

Willow still needed her daughter's help, but now it on the road to making things better.

Winter took her seat as well, opposite the older woman.

And for a long few moments, the two just sat in silence. Neither knew exactly what should or needed to be said.

Not because there were few words that needed to be said, very much to the contrary: There were days, weeks, months, and years they needed to talk about.

There was also something else there too. Willow's embarrassment and shame, not just of the past minutes but of the past nine years. Every wrong and misdoing stilling her lips and tongue, and there were so many.

What should she say?

What could she possibly say to her daughter she had done, and not done, so much to?

Especially after so long. . .

Willow wasn't the only one who was having difficulty finding her voice.

Winter too didn't know how to start. The young woman had never been adept at expressing her feelings, but this was a special case. What to say to your mother, now that after years you know she will finally remember and understand.

So then it was almost inevitable that in those few seconds that the Schnee took their seats that their conversation froze over.

Blue eyes and blue eyes, pale face and pale face. The two women looked at each other.

But for a moment, one pair of eyes looked past the other, and saw a way forward. Something that he could use to at least get them both talking.

And she hoped that this would finally get them to say what they wanted, needed to say.

"I can't imagine James is going to be happy about that door." Willow commented to her daughter, motioning to the unhinged plank of wood laying uselessly against the wall. She tried to have some humour in her voice and lighten the mood, "That is some kick you have there."

"Indeed. . ." A slight pinkness, the blush of embarrassment, appeared on Winter's face. She even averted her gaze from her mother, if only for a second, "It sounded like you needed help, so I didn't really think. I was afraid something could be wrong that any delay would be dangerous. . . So I reacted. . .My apologizes."

"Don't worry Winter, I'm not scolding you Dear." Willow reassure her daughter.

"Yeah, sorry," The younger woman still looked a little embarrassed as she continued, "I don't think Ironwood will be too upset. I believe he will understand the situation."

"I think so too, James is more reasonable than he is given credit for," The mother agreed, "He should be impressed that his lieutenant can do that to a door though. I don't think I was near that strong even at my peak."

"The military requires we specialists keep in good physical shape," Winter explained, "And I take pride in being the best at such things."

"You've grown so much." Willow observed, a touch of regret laced her words: she had not been able to watch her daughter grow all this time.

"I suppose I have." Winter had tried so hard, now for a very long time to grow from who she was. She pushed herself to become the best huntress and soldier she could be. Make herself become something different than the heiress her father had tried to mold her into and that everyone thought she was. Prove to everyone who she really was, but even more than that, prove it to herself. "In a lot of ways."

The next thought that came to Willow was simple, and it was true. It was something that she needed and wanted to say. But there it stoked the smoldering pain that burned her soul. She needed to say it though, if not for her sake, for her daughter's.

Truthfully, they were words that had needed to be said a long time ago.

The older woman made sure to look her daughter in her eyes, and that the truth was plain in her voice.

"It's amazing to see the person you are now. My Winter, my little girl, is an amazing woman now," She sighed in regret before continuing, "I'm so sorry I haven't said this to you soon, but I am proud of you."

"Thank you Mom . . . . That means a lot to me.''

"It doesn't seem like I am the only one either. You have clearly impressed James quite a bit, you're his right hand woman from what I can tell."

"That's a simplification, but he does put a great deal of trust in me." Despite her modesty, Willow could see a little well deserved pride. "Honestly, I'm honoured by it. Even being a Schnee it feels like the most important thing I could ever be."

"It might be; being part of a company isn't all your father thinks it is." One of the very few things that she still took some pride was helping to convince her daughter of that. "Forgive me, but I'm curious; what is it that you are currently working on?"

"The military is simply keeping the people of Atlas safe in these trying times."

"Come on Winter, I know there has to be more than that."

"I'm sorry Mom, but I can't say anymore. Even to you."

Honestly Willow didn't know what she had expected. It was the military after all. She'd never been able to get much out of James either.

"That fig-"

Just then there was a sound, coming from the other room. It was a tapping that cut off Willow, then quickly cutting off itself, and for a second they didn't realize what it was.

But then it came again and it was immediately apparent what it was: a knock at the door.

Both women got up from their seats to see who was there, Willow in front of her daughter.

They saw a sight that they probably could have expected; a man in a military uniform standing just outside the empty door frame. He looked understandably confused with not a small hint of concern at seeing the door ripped off its hinges.

"Excuse me," He started upon seeing the two women, "There a report of, well, that." He motioned to the front door leaning against the wall. "Is there anything-"

Winter stepped out from behind her mother, clearing her throat by to make sure she was noticed by the man. His eyes widened a bit at the sight of the officer.

"Everything is fine, thank you." She explained to the man with her usual cool demeanor, a small amount of embarrassment coming across her as her eyes flicked to the door she recently removed, "There was a. . . misunderstanding."

"Yes, of course," He replied nervously. By now the man was practically standing at attention under his superior's blue gaze, "So sorry for disturbing you Ma'am and uh," Looking at the older woman in front of him, the man's brain put the pieces together from her familiar appearance. "And Ma'am!"

While he tried to remain calm, Willow could see in his eyes something very clear: Fear.

"You were doing your duty, no need to apologize." Winter continued calmly, "But since your presence isn't needed here; please do leave us."

"Yes Ma'am," He replied with a salute, "Right away."

And so he turned and marched away. The footfalls betrayed that as soon as the soldier was out of sight of the door, he had broken into at least a brisk jog away from where he had just been. Winter sighed in slight annoyance, unsurprised by that entire encounter.

"You made that man quite nervous." Willow observed, a bit of a smile coming onto her face at the interaction she had just witnessed.

"You could say I have developed a bit of a reputation." There was embarrassment laced with pride.

"I understand, the military has to keep its secrets. But I trust you to help keep us safe."

"I shall do my best."

"There is something that I hope you can tell me a little more about. . . Your sister."

"I wish I knew more than you, but I can't say that I do. . ." Winter looked saddened by having to tell her mother this, wishing she could bear happier news. But for that moment, Winter refused to meet Willow's eyes. Willow knew that meant something.

"Is there something you aren't telling me? Winter, please. Whatever it is, I need to know." She pleaded, even bad news was better than not knowing about her little girl.

"It's nothing really, only a rumor that she might have been spotted in Mistral. Reports these days aren't reliable from outside Atlas though, so I wouldn't put much faith in it." Winter clarified.

Willow sighed at the response, no more comforted as she had hoped, but this was what she had expected. "I hope she's okay, wherever she is."

"She's grown a lot too. Beacon really changed her a lot. I've trained her to better use her semblance, but it must have been her friends and all that happened."

"She stood up to your father, and now she's gone off on her own. I'm proud of her too."

"Father. . . I shouldn't have let it get to this point. I left her alone against him and I should have known he would do this kind of thing to her. He did it to us after all. I should have-" her first was clenched on the table in front of her, trembling with anger as she worked herself up think about that creature she couldn't rightfully call a man.

"Don't blame yourself dear. You're a military officer, you have enough to do. And it's not your job to protect her. It's mine. I was actually there, but I didn't do anything."

"I still should have done something. . . . I swear to the gods I am going to-"

"Don't." Willow was firm. "Don't take a chance by doing something like that. It could ruin all that you've worked so hard for."

Winter sighed, her hand letting go of itself. "Fine. . . I won't hurt him unless he really crosses the line. . . But know I'm here to help you however I can against him."

"Thank you Winter,"

Then after subject was switched to at least slightly more pleasant topics the two women continued.

Winter was happy to hear more detail as to the decent amount of success Willow had been finding assistance against Jacques. Winter herself had long since resigned herself to the fact that her father was nearly invincible. Her only faith and hope had been in Weiss, but now she placed some in her mother too.

"I'm surprised anyone is willing to help me, take that gamble at this point."

"I'm not. Mom, people know who you were before, and still were under the alcohol."

"To be honest I'm not sure how they managed that. . . I didn't even always felt like I knew myself anymore."

"Even at your worst, there was still-"

This time it was Winter who was cut off, but instead of a knock instead by the furious ringing of her scroll. She immediately pulled the loudly tolling device out of her pocket and looked at it. Her face had changed to one with evident unease, and as her eyes scanned back and forth reading the message she had received, it grew more and more displeased.

Eventually her eyes stopped and shut for a moment. She sighed, letting go of some of the tension on her face and opened her eyes to look at her mother.

It wasn't hard for Willow to deduce what that was and what she was about to hear.

"That was from Ironwood," Winter stated with detectable unhappiness, "I am needed to attend to an urgent matter. I'm sorry, but it cannot wait."

She clearly didn't want this meeting to end, but had no other choice as she started to get up.

"I understand, your duty calls." Willow assured her daughter with a smile.

"Well then," Winter got to her feet, "I believe this is goodbye for now. I'll try to see you again as soon as I can, but I don't know how long that will be."

"Nothing to be done, so don't worry about that," The mother tried again to make Winter at ease. "So then, I guess this is good-. . ."

Willow trailed off before she could finish bidding farewell, because there was still something she had left to do. Something she needed to do, that she had been putting off this entire time.

It scared her honestly. But she couldn't let Winter leave yet.

She needed to do this.

Winter had already turned, making her way to the door.

"Winter, wait."

She turned back, "Yes Mom?"

Willow needed to apologize for all that she'd done.

The years of neglect, the abandonment of her family in months on end spent less conscious of their passing.

The guilt had always been there, but now that she couldn't, wouldn't, just drink more to dull it in a futile attempt to make it go away: it hurt. It hurt more than anything she had felt before, a burning in her heart. The withdrawal was nothing compared to this.

Because of how much she knows she hurt her children, the people she cared about and loved most. Hurt them by not being the mother they all needed and instead leaving them only with that thing she had so stupidly made her husband. It amazed her how much her daughters didn't give her the hatred she deserved, and she couldn't blame her son for that he did.

Willow began to cry, letting herself remember exactly what she had done.

She was weak, and willfully persisted in her weakness for years. So they paid the price while she lived in a blissful haze.

They deserved so much better than her.

What could she really say that could possibly mean anything in the light of all of that?

How could she even really start to make up for any of it?

Willow knew that nothing could ever take back the years, the pain.

But she could start trying to make up for it, she had to. Even if she knew that nothing she could ever do would make up for it completely.

She had to try.

Her children deserved that.

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

The daughter in front of her who somehow still loved her after it all deserved that.

"Mom, are you alright?" Winter asked concerned seeing her mother begin to break down.

And there it was again, the love she didn't deserve.

"Winter. . . I'm sorry. . . I'm so sorry. . ." Willow wept, searching for some way to convey what her heart felt and failing. She got to her feet almost not knowing it and went over to where her daughter stood, "I'm sorry for it all. I failed you. . . .You deserved so much better. I wasn't the mother you needed. . . I'm sorry. . ."

She had said it, but she knew it wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be. Nothing ever could be.

Willow crumpled to her knees put her head in her hands, the shame over what she had done back, she didn't want to even look at her daughter. So she cried.

Then, strong arms wrapped themselves around her. Reluctantly, after a moment, she opened her wet eyes.

Winter was hugging her, on floor with her.

"I-I'm sorry. . ." What else was there to say?

"I know Mom, I know" Winter smiled at her, tears streaming too. "But you're trying now, you're getting better. And that's all I could ever ask of you."

Winter looked her mother in the eyes, blue staring back through each other through the tears.

"I'm just happy to have my mom back"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, its been a while. 
> 
> Honestly, I fell out of love of this story and found it very difficult to write anything of a significant length for a while.
> 
> But I said I'd do more and I anted to do it before V7's finale, so I am putting this out as the final chapter. I hope I can come back one day to at least clean it up but there are other thing I've been putting off I plan to do.
> 
> My apologizes to those who wanted more, I hope this is a decent ending for you all.

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted from FF and I've posted an earlier draft on Reddit before, so if it looks familiar that's why. 
> 
> A backsword is in many ways part way between a rapier (Weiss's weapon) and a sabre (Winter's weapon), so I thought it would be a good one it give Willow.
> 
> At least one more chapter is almost definitely coming, but I wrote this hopefully to stand on it's own.
> 
> This is my first post here (and my second significant story in general), hope y'all liked it. Criticism welcomed.


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